A Blue Demon in Vegas
by KerJye
Summary: Kurt, caged and neglected, is found near death by Grissom. The story follows Kurt as he learns to trust and what it is to be cared for. CSIxmen crossover. read and review...be gentle
1. Just a Boy

Disclaimer: I don't own anything! o.O…….

Chapter 1: A Blue Demon in Vegas

It had been a fairly slow week for Grissom and his team when they got the call that an illegal brothel had been discovered in one of the more shady districts of Las Vegas. It had seemed to be a fairly normal bust; an undercover cop found his way in, offered to pay for some entertainment for the night, and once the nature of the 'House of Entertainment' was perfectly clear the remaining police force rushed in to arrest those partaking in the illegal actions. It appeared to be your average bust. Thus the reason Grissom and his crew were unsure as to why the CSI homicide had been notified to investigate.

"I don't understand Brass; it seems like a clean arrest. There was no reference to hostility with the patrons, or actions suggesting that there was more than everyday illegal entertainment going on. The report didn't mention a body. We can't be much help if we don't know what we're up against." Grissom had told Brass on his arrival to the House called Underworld Entertainment. Brass seemed disturbed as he began to move away from the growing crowd gathered around the scene, guiding Grissom into the House.

"In a case like this we weren't sure who to call. What you're here for wasn't mentioned in the report because we aren't sure what exactly it is that we've found." Brass paused and looked cautiously around to see that he wouldn't be overheard, Grissom glanced around too, perplexed at Brass's odd behavior. "You see, there is a body, but of what we're not sure. Most of the force is too creeped out by it to go nearer to it than its cage. We're not even sure if the thing's alive, it sure smells dead. We felt you should be called in before anything was done with it."  
Brass led Grissom through the House. They passed various rooms where Grissom could overhear the people being read their rights; many of the women were crying and protesting the charges. Grissom vaguely wondered how many police had been required for such a large bust. When Brass turned a sharp corner that the average eye would have missed and began to guide him down into a basement, Grissom spoke up.

"Where exactly is this body?"

"Hidden. We didn't find it until enough of the officers were free to search the house. It is pretty deep in the basement. When we asked the inhabitants about it, most were as in the dark about it as we were." Brass stated, "It seems that whatever it is, it has been kept well under wraps."

Grissom nodded and pulled out his flashlight; the light didn't extend too far in the pith basement. As Grissom walked down the obscure stairway, he began to smell the stench of feces and illness. The overwhelming smell grew stronger as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Brass led Grissom to the right, to a half built room with no door. The entire basement was dim. There were no windows and no light other than the glow of the flashlights.

Brass and Grissom walked up to the doorless entryway where they were met by one of the deputies who had discovered the body. Brass shook the man's hand and introduced Grissom, who followed suit. Grissom noticed that the man looked shaken and jumpy.

"Anything to report?" Brass asked.

"No one's been in or out just as you ordered." The man said.

"Good. Thank you. Could you open the cell now?" Brass said, adding to Grissom, "We confiscated the key from one of the 'managers'." Grissom nodded.

"Yes sir." The Deputy replied, then asked Grissom, "So, are you here to figure out what it is?"

"So I've been told." Grissom replied.

"I haven't got the faintest idea of what it might be." The man continued, "Whatever it is, it must have been dead for ages to smell so rancid."

"Oh it's not dead," Stated Grissom as he approached the cage. He peered down onto the creature through the bars since the deputy had yet to unlock the cage.

"What?!?" The deputy yelled, dropping the keys and backing away from the creature as fast as possible, "That monster's still living?" He backed all the way to the door.

More calmly, but still uneasily, Brass inquired, "How can you tell Gil?"

"The smell," Grissom said easily as he retrieved the fallen keys, "It's potent enough alright," He said unlocking the door, he threw the keys back to the trembling deputy, but it's not the smell of death…body waste and sickness, yes…but it is almost certainly alive. Brass would you hit the switch near the far wall there?"

Brass looked over to where Grissom had indicated and saw the light switch that had eluded them thus far. At the click of the switch, a dull light cast itself on the room, and the creature.

Grissom and the others gasped as they witnessed full sight of the creature. It had a humanoid shape, but hardly looked human. It was covered with fur, black and greasy. Its legs were held loosely to its chest as it lay on its side, unconscious. Its feet looked more like hooves and it looked as though its hands bore only three fingers each. Wrapped limply over its body was what seemed to be a spaded tail. Grissom, being closer, was able to make out a face with pointed ears and old as well as new scars. Its mouth, slightly agape, revealed sharp teeth.

Rather than alarming Grissom, the creature intrigued him. He took a step closer, the deputy reached for his gun, and Brass prepared himself to get Grissom out of there as quick as possible if need arose. The creature's limp tail gained life as it wrapped itself tighter around the being's waist.

"Holy-!" a gun shot sounded and cracked and echoed in throughout the basement. The bullet from the deputy's gun went straight into the dirt floor. Both Grissom and Brass jumped at the sound and turned angrily on the deputy.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking? Who do you think you are? Barney Fife?" Brass demanded, "Get back upstairs now you idiot. And give me that gun!"

Grissom, who had leapt back into the cell's bars, looked exasperatedly at the retreating deputy. "Would it be possible to use a bit more stealth please?"

Grissom looked back down at the creature. It seemed to be more aware than it had been before the gunshot. Its eyes were open but unfocused; it seemed disoriented and had begun to cry. Grissom went back to it and knelt near its head. He stooped so close that he saw that the creature's face was lined with tattoo like scars, some of them looked years old, in elegant shapes. He also noted some less appealing cuts, new and deep, tracing over the old beautiful ones. The newer cuts had yet to heal fully and some were now reopening as the creature began to struggle against an unseen force, trembling and whimpering. Grissom, abandoning fear and reason, reached out to touch the creature, to calm it and prevent it hurting itself.

_The creature, in pain, took a sharp intake of breath and shied at first from the contact, then calmed as the gentle touch soothed it and took its mind off the pain; wanting so much to trust whoever this was that had the heart to touch him so tenderly, but fearing it might only lead to disappointment._

"Shh, it's ok now." Grissom said almost inaudibly, the creature heard his voice and relaxed into the hand that was now caressing his swollen cheek and aching neck, "he's hurt pretty bad Brass, a few more days living like this and he may die."

"Do you think he was a source of revenue for the owners here?" Brass asked, moving into the cell door.

"I wouldn't doubt it." Grissom said examining the cuts that lined the creature's body. "He was most likely used for more violent entertainment purposes."

"What should we do Gil?"

"We need to get a stretcher down here and take him up."

"But what should we do with him?" Brass persisted. "There aren't many people who would be willing to assist a demon."

"He's not a demon," Grissom said calmly, "but I see what you mean. We'll take him back to the precinct with us. Try to bring him around, maybe find out a bit about him."

"You speak like it's an everyday find," Brass said, "We don't even know what it is."

"Whatever he is, he deserves better than to die in this cell." Grissom retrieved his phone and dialed up Sarah, whom he expected to have arrived.

_"Hello"_

"Sarah, are you at the House yet?"

"_Yeah, I've been wondering where you had gone"_

"We're in the basement. Come on down. Bring a stretcher."

"_Should I bring the paramedics too?"_

"No, just the stretcher."

There was a pause from Sarah and Brass took the opportunity to speak, "There are going to be a lot of questions. They're not going to want to give up a stretcher without good reason."

Grissom nodded his understanding and puzzled over their dilemma, "Sarah?"

"_Yeah?"_

"Tell them we found a dead performing animal within the House and we need the stretcher to get it out."

"_What did you find?"_

"I think you should come down and see for yourself."

"_Alright, I'll be down there shortly."_

"Thanks Sarah."

"_No problem Gris."_

"Are you sure it was wise to lead the paramedics to believe this is just a dead animal." Brass commented.

Grissom replied, "That way, when we take him up, there'll be no reason for anyone to examine the body, save the rest of my team."

"But it could lead to the involvement of animal control and authorities," Brass countered.

"That might not be a terrible consequence." Grissom answered, "They might be an advantage in fighting for his justice."

"You think that since they're animal lovers they'll be more sympathetic to his case?"

"One can hope." Grissom said looking from the creature to the stairway where he could hear Sarah descending.

The stretcher appeared first, followed by Sarah, who was wielding a flashlight as well. "What a smell," She said as she walked into the rundown room.

"There's someone down here," Grissom said indicating the body, "It seems that he might have been left here to die. There's no food, no water, just the cell."

"Oh my God, is he still alive?" She queried.

"Just barely," Gill said and added, "I must warn you, he doesn't appear to be human, but he's not hostile."

Sarah feigned offence, "You know I've become more or less immune to the crime scenes Gil. No warning needed."

Grissom merely shrugged, "Come on in then and we'll take a better look at him."

Sarah stepped into the dimly lit room and looked to the source of the smell. She gasped and took a step back at the sight of the black demon-like creature curled up on the floor.

"You were warned, Sarah," Brass said almost smugly.

Sarah began stammering in her defense, "You led me to believe that it was a person or an animal, but this-this thing is-is-"

"Just a boy, Sarah."

Grissom said, his voice growing tense.

"A boy? Grissom. That is a boy?" Sarah said, annoyed that she hadn't heeded Gil's warning, "How do you know?" She asked, calming herself.

"Come over here and look at his face." Grissom beckoned.

Sarah moved hesitantly forward and knelt near Grissom and the 'boy.' Getting closer, she began to absorb what a bad shape the creature was in. His fur was disheveled and plastered to his skin. As she looked closer, she saw that it was the thick layer of dirt and waste that made him so black.

"I want to take him back to the precinct and get him treated. He's been through alot and he's hanging by a thread now. He deserves better than this." Grissom said.

Sarah looked from Grissom to the pitiful body, acknowledging its suffering. She nodded in understanding, "Ok, let's get him up." She said laying the stretcher flat next to the boy.

"We're going to have to move him very gently and cover him to get past the press and public." Said Grissom.

Brass moved around to the side opposite Gil and Sarah. "Grissom and I will lift him up. Sarah, you pull the stretcher under him."

Sarah nodded. Grissom placed one hand under the boy's head to brace his neck and the other under his torso to lift him. He looked into the boy's face, he was more aware now but his eyes seemed unseeing and full of fear.

The boy tried to focus on Grissom and could almost see the concerned face peering down on him. He more felt than saw the man place his hand on his neck and his aching side. At first the boy nearly panicked at the touch, fearing it would be more violent. He couldn't understand why, but he felt safe in Grissom's arms and temporarily the panic subsided.

"It's going to be alright now," He heard Grissom say, "We'll get you out of here."

The boy couldn't comprehend why this man seemed to care, but he hadn't the time to ponder it further as the man behind him grabbed his lower back and legs. The boy tensed and barely heard Brass say, "Ready? One, two, three."

Blinding pain shot through the boy's body as he was lifted and set back down on the stretcher. He latched onto the first thing he could, which happened to be Grissom

Grissom saw the boy's face twist in agony and heard his pitiful cry. He looked down at his shirt where the boy desperately held on as if his life depended on it. "Shh," Grissom said, regretting that he had added pain to the boy's suffering, "It's alright, I'm sorry." he said, continuing to mutter words of comfort to the boy.

The boy heard Grissom's voice though he couldn't make out the words. He calmed.

Grissom felt the tense muscles go flax.

"Is he alright?" A concerned Sarah asked.

"He needs medical attention immediately. From what I can tell, there are no broken bones, but there might still be fractures and bruising. This boy's been beaten badly." Grissom said. He placed his hand on the boy's forehead, whispering once more, "You're safe now. You can let go." He tried to pry the boy's fingers from his shirt, but the harder he tried, the more desperately the boy clung. "Alright." Grissom said in defeat, "You can hold on."

Sarah and Brass had shown that they were ready to move out. With Sarah and Grissom on one side and Brass on the opposite, the stretcher was lifted. They squeezed through the cell door and carried their burden to the stairs where Grissom stopped.

"We need to cover him," He said, indicating to Sarah the blanket that the stretcher carried, "It'll be easier to get him out of here with less suspicion."

Sarah pulled out the white blanket and began to lay it over the creature. The boy started to panic as she grew near his face with the blanket. He began to struggle away from Sarah. Grissom grasped the hand that was still clutching his shirt and squeezed gently, drawing the boy's attention to him.

"It'll be alright," Grissom said softly, gazing into the fearful yellow eyes of the child. "We need to cover you, to protect you. I won't let you go. I promise."

The boy relaxed once more, peering solely into the face of Grissom. He tried again to focus, but found that the harder he tried, the more nauseous he felt. As he looked at Grissom, he watched the man nod to one of the others. He grew stiff as Sarah slid the blanket up over his head. His hand tightened on Grissom's shirt as the man left his sight. He felt Grissom's hand grip his own in response.

Grissom looked from the boy to Brass and Sarah.

"Ready?" Brass asked. The other two nodded, "Let's go then."

They walked up the narrow staircase and turned the sharp corner. While they walked down the hall, the few remaining inhabitants and officers stopped to watch him pass. Brass pulled some strings and obtained a large van to place the boy in. They drove him back to the precinct, unloaded him, and set him up in an infirmary room. Somewhere along the way the boy drifted off to sleep.

Grissom informed only the doctors he trusted about Kurt. He led them to the room where the boy was sleeping, still on the stretcher.

"Oh my God!" Exclaimed one of the women doctors, "What did they do to him?

"From what I can tell, he's been physically abused and neglected." Grissom stated, "He's lighter than he should be. I'd wager he hasn't had a decent meal in a while."

"And the rest?" She inquired.

"It seems he might have been born with the rest." Grissom said.

"Is he human?"

"I don't know," Grissom said, growing impatient, "I'll have Greg run a blood test. Right now we need to check him for injuries."

"We can only do so much now Grissom," A second doctor admitted, "He needs to be cleaned so we can see the full extent of his injuries. We can start him on an IV so he may regain his strength, but that's about it."

Grissom nodded, "We should let him sleep for now. While he's sleeping, it's best you run some standard Special Victims Tests. I'll wake him in about an hour; that should give the IV time to enter his system and strengthen him. Once he's awake, I'll take him to be cleaned."

"It's lucky you found him when you did. I don't think he could've lasted much longer."

"He has lasted this long though. Let's hope he's willing to give it a couple more rounds." Grissom stated watching as the boy slept on, a pained look on his face, "He can pull through this." Grissom made a resolution that he would do all in his power to make sure this boy did pull through; no child should have to go through what this boy had suffered.


	2. Not Black

Hey again. Here's the next chapter. I'm always nervous about posting some of my more personal fics but I'm gonna be brave and just put it all out there. I'd just like you to know that I want Grissom to be seen as a father figure. There will be close, meaningful and personal moments between the two and I don't want them misinterpreted.

Chapter 2: Not Black

Kurt began to stir in his room. When he tried to remember what had happened, he could recall only a voice. He gradually remembered the intense pain he had felt -now a dull ache throughout his body- but still predominant in his mind was the comforting voice. Now he heard nothing but the persistent beep coming from somewhere beside him. His head ached. He made to reach his hand to his forehead when he felt the sheets.

_A bed?_ He hadn't slept in a bed since he was eight years old. He couldn't remember how many years ago that had been, long before he came to be here...he pushed the dismal thoughts from his mind quickly. Instead he tried to remember a name but was unable to. The beeping began to speed up. The boy opened his eyes.

Before him he beheld a very white room with a window off to his left. He looked down to his arm where a catheter had been connected. He watched the fluids drip into the tube for the equivalent of fifty two beeps of the heart monitor when he heard the door click. He began to panic, fearing an attack. The beeping grew faster as he watched the door open. A nurse walked into the room and stopped in her tracks.

"You're awake!" she exclaimed. She dropped the tray she had been carrying onto the floor, spilling its contents of sedative and painkillers.

At the crash of the tray, the boy started and backed away from the noise and the lady. In his fright, he backed himself right off the bed, hitting the ground hard. Catherine and Warrick, who were standing just outside the room when the nurse shrieked, ran into the room to find the boy on the floor, struggling to escape and succeeding only in entangling himself in the tubes and wires that were tracking his vitals. Catherine ran up to the boy, who instinctively tried to back away, whacking his head against the wall.

"Go get Grissom!" She yelled to Warrick. He ran for Grissom's office. "It's Okay kid, no one's going to hurt you here." She reached out to help him untangle himself but he recoiled from her. She stood and backed off to wait for Grissom. She didn't want the boy to further harm himself.

"Where is he?" Grissom said as Catherine stood.

"Over here." She answered, indicating where he had fallen, "He won't let anybody near him. The nurse was coming to administer more pain meds when she found him awake and he panicked."

The boy became less tense when he saw Grissom, but he was still timid. Grissom examined him from far, seeing immediately how the boy was trapped in a mess of wires and how he was obviously fearful. Grissom approached slowly and reached out his hand to touch the boy's face. He saw the boy flinch but noticed how the boy held eye contact; almost pleading for sympathy.

"Catherine, get me a wheelchair please. I'll take him now."

Catherine left to get a chair. Grissom moved in closer to the boy to try and reassure him. "Had a bit of a fall there didn't you? Did you hurt yourself?" Grissom looked him over to be sure that he was alright. He was surprised to note the significance that only a few hours of undisturbed sleep and fluids had improved the state of the creature.

"Here you go, Griss," Catherine said, "Are you sure he's ready?"

"Yes. We need to get this done to make sure that he isn't too seriously injured. The doctors need him clean before they can help."

Catherine wheeled the chair near Grissom and the boy, who now grasped Grissom's sleeve. He was visibly uncomfortable with the chair and the people surrounding him. Grissom read the boy's manner and said, "Catherine, make sure there's nobody in the hallway. I don't want him startled out there."

"Sure Grissom." Catherine said. Walking to the hall for a moment before reentering, "It's all clear."

Grissom nodded then changed his position so that he was kneeling before the boy. "It's alright." He muttered softly. He sealed off the catheter and removed the wires tracking his heart rate. Gently he untangled the tubes and wires from the boy. Every now and again the boy would flinch and Grissom would reassure him with soft whispers. With the boy finally freed, Grissom pulled the wheelchair closer, the boy looked at it warily. "Don't be afraid." Grissom said, "I won't hurt you."

This time the boy believed those words, in spite of his fear. He understood what Grissom was proceeding to do.

Still on his knees, Grissom reached his arms loosely around the boy. They were very close but Grissom left the boy room to resist or accept the gesture. The boy stiffened, and for a moment dared not even breathe. Grissom, ever patient, allowed him to relax and adjust. Tentatively, the boy reached his arms around Grissom's neck and braced himself to be lifted. Grissom's arms grasped him more firmly but still gently. Grissom lifted the boy gently from the ground to the wheelchair. He gave the boy a moment to acclimate to the chair before releasing him. The boy's arms slid from Grissom's neck.

"Are you alright?" Grissom asked, watching uncertain and fearful eyes dart from their small audience to rest on Grissom, "Catherine, could you take the others to wait in another room?" Grissom said, knowing the people made the boy nervous. He wanted to try and make this as easy on the boy as he could.

"Alright, Grissom."

_Grissom, _the boy thought. That was the man's name. It was Grissom who had saved him; Grissom who had just moments earlier, knelt in front of him and freed him. _But why?_ The boy sat in the wheelchair silently, headed for an unknown location, but he wasn't as afraid as he would have expected. He wondered why this man didn't frighten him like most men did. _Why did he dare to trust this man?_ Questions flooded the boy's mind. He watched the doors pass and could see that people were watching from the windows. He lowered his gaze; he knew from experience that people didn't like it when he looked them in the eyes. _So why had he allowed himself to look Grissom in the eyes as he had earlier? And why hadn't the man retreated from him?_

"My name is Gil Grissom," The man said. Pulling the boy from his thoughts. They had arrived in the locker room and were headed towards the showers. "Do you have a name?" Grissom said, moving to face the boy.

Many names flew unexpectedly into the boy's mind. _Freak! Demon! Devil! _They were frightening and hateful names. _NO! _The boy thought. He searched his mind desperately for his name. He knew it was there but it had been so long... The name worked its way to the surface of his mind... _Kurt,_ he thought. That was his name, he was sure of it. _Kurt._

Now that he had his name, he longed to tell Grissom, but part of him insisted on his silence. Speaking only led to pain up until now. He was punished whenever he uttered even a single cry. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had even tried to speak. He wasn't even sure if he'd be able to if he wanted. _What does it matter? _He thought. He wanted Grissom to know. He wanted at least to try.

These thoughts passed through Kurt's mind within moments, and he made up his mind.

Grissom wasn't even sure if the boy had understood his question. He seemed confused. Grissom was ready to dismiss the question when he heard the boy attempt to speak.

"Kh" Grissom heard the boy utter, "K- Kh" The boy struggled to form the name.

Grissom looked at the boy encouragingly. The boy appeared to be at a loss. _How long has it been since he's spoken with anybody?_ Grissom thought as the boy's frustration grew more visible.

"K-Ku...Kurt." The boy forced the meager whisper out. The name was barely audible but Grissom caught it with his attentive ears and with the help of lip reading.

"Kurt?" Grissom echoed. The boy, Kurt, seemed exhausted. Grissom was so astounded to hear Kurt speak that he allowed himself a smile, saying, "It's a pleasure to meet you Kurt." Slowly, he reached out an open hand toward the boy. Kurt lifted his hand haltingly and Grissom gently took it in his own. Grissom held Kurt's hand for a moment, wondering how long it had been since he had felt any such kind gesture.

Grissom released Kurt's hand. He got up from his kneeling position and walked over to the open shower. Gil turned on the water and adjusted it to a warm, soothing temperature. When he was satisfied, he turned back to Kurt, who was staring at him intently. Kurt averted his gaze hastily, as if fearing his attention was offensive. Grissom looked on with pity and understanding as he re-approached Kurt.

Grissom sighed and pondered how he could best reassure the wary boy before him. He knelt down once more and began, "There's no need to be afraid, Kurt. I know you've been through a lot and it must be very difficult to trust people," Gil looked into Kurt's eyes, reading comprehension, "but I need you to trust us and let us help you. You've been badly hurt, and for us to care for your injuries and avoid infection, I must get you bathed. I'm not going to hurt you, and I need for you to understand that. Can you trust me?"

Kurt stared long into Grissom's eyes, as if searching the man's soul, trying to discern truth or deceit. Grissom was patient with Kurt's hesitancy as long moments passed.

Gil breathed an inner sigh of relief as the boy's face turned almost hopeful. Kurt nodded his understanding.

Grissom returned the nod and placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder and noted that the boy was shaking. Empathy rushed through Grissom, "Everything's going to be alright, Kurt."

Gil removed his hand and noticed that it came away with soot from Kurt's skin. The humidity of the shower had already begun to cleanse the boy. Grissom began to remove the paper-like hospital gown that Kurt had been given. Kurt stood stone still as Grissom removed the garments. The only indication of fear was an increase in his breathing when Grissom would move too suddenly. Grissom was especially attentive to Kurt's indications of uncertainty, and reacted calmly and accordingly.

With the hospital gown securely down to Kurt's waist Grissom once more placed his arms on Kurt's side and prepared to pick him up. Kurt, as earlier placed his arms around Gil's neck so he could be lifted. Grissom took him over to the bench beneath the shower of water and set him down gently.

Grissom released Kurt and saw that his shirt had blackened with dirt from Kurt's body. Gil was pleased that he had preempted such an occurrence and had earlier put on scrubs. With the water jetting down on Kurt, a trail of black could be followed from the boy to the drain.

Kurt let his tail graze over the growing puddle of water and watched as the dirtied water made swirls in the clear water. Grissom retrieved a body wash and washcloth from the shelf beside the bench where Kurt was sitting. Gil sat next to Kurt and faced him. Grissom clicked open the bottle and poured a generous portion of soap onto the washcloth and rubbed the cloth against itself to make the soap bubble. Kurt watched, both curious and timid.

Grissom eased in closer to Kurt, washcloth in his right hand, then in a quiet voice, in a tone so soft and gentle that Kurt felt it was reserved solely for him, Grissom said, "Don't be afraid." Slowly he brought his left hand forward to touch Kurt's cheek, "I won't hurt you." Grissom then touched the cloth to Kurt's face and, as promised, gently swabbed the boy's skin, using his left hand to keep Kurt's head from jerking away.

Kurt intently watched Grissom's every move and expression. He couldn't believe that his man, no more than a stranger, would show him such kindness where he had only received scorn and violence. As he watched Grissom's face, Kurt saw it turn from caring to studious, Kurt tensed.

Grissom stopped and lowered the cloth. The lighting in the shower room wasn't all that great, and Grissom began thinking that maybe it was playing tricks on him. Grissom turned Kurt's face more toward the light. From shadow into light, Grissom saw that, what everyone had considered to be black skin was taking on a new tint.

In the voice Grissom reserved only for Kurt, he said, "You're not black at all are you?"

Kurt didn't respond and Grissom hadn't expected him to. Gil rinsed off Kurt's face and realized that the true color of the boy was a royal blue beneath the filth that coated him. Grissom continued to scrub until he began to see the blue spread from Kurt's face to his neck and down his arms. Grissom was gentler around Kurt's injuries, most of which were no more than a few days old. Grissom took the opportunity to examine the scars that lined his new patient's body.

The scars were intricate swirls and patterns. Grissom began to wonder if they were symbols of some sort, carved in on purpose, and if so, who made them. As he reached Kurt's stomach, he found a newer slice on his side. Grissom gently rinsed off the cut, which looked like it might have been caused by a kick from a steel toed boot. Kurt winced and sucked in his breath as Grissom touched the cut.

"Sorry, son" He responded.

Kurt stiffened but stayed silent. He wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. He'd been called many things, but he hadn't been anyone's son since he was 6. He decided it was just wishful thinking. There was no way Grissom could actually be concerned for Kurt's pain…Was there?

Grissom washed down Kurt's legs and studied his tridactile feet. The boy fascinated him. He looked so much like a demon, but had the mannerisms of a terrified child.

He reached across Kurt to take his tail. Kurt froze but made no further protest.

"It's alright," Gil said, "I'm nearly done."

He finished washing the boy's tail and took a look at how blue Kurt now looked. Just being clean made him look healthier. It had taken Gil about an hour to bring out the true Kurt. He approved of the progress he'd made and turned off the shower.

With the water stopped, Kurt felt suddenly colder and more vulnerable, yet knowing Grissom was near, he felt protected.

"Better?" Grissom said, setting a towel over Kurt's shoulders. He began to rub and dry off the blue child. Kurt began to nod off in the returning warmth.

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Well that's that! more chapters to come if ppl don't hate it...and probably even if they do.. lol


	3. Extending Trust

With the fine fur covering Kurt's body, Grissom realized that it would take far too long to get him dry enough to be bandaged. He looked at Kurt and to the door and decided he would draft Greg into helping. He went to the receiver near the door.

Grissom picked up the phone and dialed #43, which was the extension to the lab where Greg could be found. The phone rang once before Greg picked up the phone.

"_Yeah?"_ he said unprofessionally, Grissom let it slide.

"Greg, it's Gil,"

"_Oh hey, Griss,"_ Greg replied.

"Hi. If you're not busy, could you stop by the showers and help me with the victim we picked up earlier?"

"_The creature? Yeah, of course. I'd love the chance to get a closer look at him."_

"Great, just bring a couple of the blow-dryers with you, ok?"

"_Sure thing."_ Greg said before hanging up.

Grissom hung up as well and returned to Kurt, who was still dripping wet and had begun to shiver.

"I called someone to come in and help us." He said softly, "His name is Greg, and he's a good friend."

Kurt raised his head and looked nervously at Gil. Grissom could see that Kurt was frightened of new people, and didn't blame him.

"You'll be safe." He said in reassurance.

Since Greg was just a floor away, Grissom expected to see him push through the door at any moment. Sure enough, Greg charged through the door and in his speed slipped up on the slick floors, nearly dropping the two blow-dryers in his arms. Kurt jumped and scooted nearer Grissom.

"-Slippery," Greg said sheepishly to Gil.

"Slow down, Greg," Grissom said, but he no longer had Greg's attention.

Greg had spotted Kurt, huddled under the towel next to Grissom. Greg moved closer to the boy, who shied away from the attention. Greg made to reach out to ensure that he wasn't imagining the shade of the boy before him when he realized that he was still balancing two blow-dryers.

Grissom could feel how tense Kurt was becoming, though Greg's intrigue was harmless, so he broke the silence, "Greg, meet Kurt. Kurt, this is Greg."

Greg awoke from his trance, "Grissom," he said pausing, as if searching for words, "He's blue!" He said finally.

"Oh, you noticed?" Grissom said glancing at Kurt, "Come over here with me a moment, would you?"

Greg reluctantly tore his eyes away from the boy and followed Grissom to the far end of the showers.

"Greg," Gil started, somewhat sternly, "Kurt is extremely uneasy and wary of us right now. He's vulnerable and afraid. You know what he's been a victim of. Please, try to be considerate of how he's feeling currently, in this situation."

Greg, whose mind had been clearly fixated on the boy's appearance, became ashamed of his earlier behavior. He had burst in on them without warning and he knew full well that Kurt had been through hell at that House.

"I'm so sorry, Grissom." He said sincerely. "I didn't mean to make him even more uncomfortable." He peered around Grissom to see Kurt, who looked so small and alone. "I'll do better." He said resolutely.

"Ok then," Grissom said, accepting Greg's apology, "Get those plugged in."

Grissom returned to Kurt's side, "I'm going to move you over to that counter now, ok?"

Kurt looked from Gil to Greg. Greg gave his best disarming smile, and Kurt gave Grissom a slight nod. Gil lifted Kurt once more and moved him over to the table where Greg had set up the blow-dryers.

"Have you seen one of these before, Kurt?" Grissom asked. Again Kurt nodded, hesitantly. "Alright. Greg and I are going to get you dry. This will blow warm air over you. It may be loud, but it won't hurt you, ok Kurt?" Kurt looked warily at the object. "Greg, turn yours on low." Grissom said softly. Uncertain of how the boy would react, he settled on Kurt's right to be prepared to reach for the boy with his left arm if needed.

Greg nodded and switched the dryer into life. The blast of the dryer caused Kurt to jump in panic. He was steadied by Grissom's ready embrace, and stood frozen against Gil.

"It's ok, Kurt," Grissom said, understanding Kurt's fright and regretting how deeply rooted it was. He gestured to Greg, "Hand me that one," Greg let Gil take the blow-dryer from his hand and picked up the one still lying on the table.

"It won't hurt you," Gil reemphasized, passing the warm air over his own hand slowly, "Do you trust me?"

Kurt gazed warily at the dryer then held out a quivering hand for Grissom to take. Gil accepted the hand and sighed inwardly, relieved that Kurt found the faith to rely on Gil's promise. Grissom steadily passed the air over both of their hands. Kurt flinched at first, but then accepted the warmth. Gil signaled Greg to start up the other dryer, and together they began to gradually dry off the boy.

The heat comforted Kurt more than the water had. He focused on the air that swam over his body in waves and currents. He found himself drifting between sleep and consciousness and soon the blaring of the blow-dryers became a gentle hum in the back of his mind. He felt safe at last. After so many years, he finally felt cared for. He let the warmth engulf him and allowed the persistent humming to lull him to sleep. He heard a voice in the distance. He couldn't make out the words but he knew it was the voice of Grissom; the voice of the guardian angel who had rescued him from his death. With that final thought, Kurt allowed sleep to embrace him fully.

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As he continued to dry Kurt, Greg noticed how Kurt seemed to be drifting to sleep.

"Hey Griss," he said, "looks like we're losing him."

Grissom had noticed Kurt slip into unconsciousness as well, and was glad to know that the boy had grown comfortable enough with them to allow himself to rest.

"Let him sleep," Grissom said, barely audibly over the blow-dryers, "He's earned it."

Greg nodded and permitted himself a small grin at the sight of the slumbering blue boy, totally oblivious to the racket that echoed through the showers.

After about half an hour, they had Kurt completely dry. They turned off the blow-dryers and set to redressing him. Gil slipped the clean hospital gown onto Kurt while Greg made sure Kurt didn't topple over. Grissom felt paternal as he dressed Kurt, taking care not to hurt or wake him. He felt honored that Kurt had placed such trust in him so willingly. He could only imagine what Kurt had been through already in his young life. The thought of the hell they must have put him through made Grissom disgusted. He would make sure they paid for the damage they had done to this child.

With Kurt dressed, Grissom lifted him gently and sat him in the wheelchair. Kurt stirred at the movement and whimpered meekly.

"Shh, I'm here," Grissom whispered, "It's alright"

Greg stood silently by, astonished at the relationship Grissom had established with Kurt in such a short period of time. He watched as Kurt quieted with the sound of Grissom's voice and settled easily back to sleep.

Grissom signaled for Greg to follow and they wheeled Kurt back to the room he had been set up in. Grissom was glad that Kurt had fallen asleep because the sight of him, clean and blue, drew a lot of attention from the staff trusted with his case. Gasps could be heard to the right and left of the trio. Grissom kept his pace, pleased that none of the comments that he'd heard were negative. He had confided in the proper people.

Grissom wheeled Kurt into the room and was followed by a doctor and an assistant. The doctor made to lift Kurt into the bed, but Grissom knelt protectively in front of Kurt, "I got him" he said, nodding his thanks but no thanks to the doctor.

He lifted Kurt carefully from the chair. Kurt stirred once again, becoming more aware than he had the previous time. He looked around frantically, trying to discern where he was.

Grissom felt Kurt wake. "I got you, Kurt," Grissom whispered, bringing Kurt back from his panic.

Kurt calmed considerably as he felt himself lowered to the infirmary bed. He looked past Grissom while Gil reinserted the IV into Kurt's arm. Kurt saw the doctor, the assistant, Greg, and a few others who lingered near the door. His eyes rested on Greg, who smiled and waved slightly. The doctor approached the bed.

"I have a sedative to administer so he won't have to deal with the stress of the treatments," the doctor said to Grissom, who nodded in understanding.

The doctor injected the sedative into the IV. Kurt tensed being so close to this stranger. Grissom grasped his Kurt's wrist gently both to reassure the boy and to keep him from jerking away. When Grissom felt Kurt relax into the artificial sleep of the sedative, he removed his hand.

With Kurt asleep, the medical staff moved in with their necessary supplies. Grissom exited the room followed by Greg. He stopped just outside and looked in through the window. The doctors had drawn the curtain around Kurt's bed for his privacy and had begun their tests and treated his injuries.

Catherine came from the lab where she had been working another case. She had seen Kurt before he entered the room.

"Hey Grissom, Greg," She greeted.

"Hello, Catherine," Grissom said.

Greg could see that the two wanted to have a more private chat, CEO to CEO and such, so he left them to return to his lab work. Both appreciated Greg's perceptive departure and turned toward Kurt's room.

"I see they're getting started on the tests" Catherine stated carefully, "What do you expect they'll find?"

Grissom sighed, "Though I hate to think about it, I do believe they'll find the worst."

Catherine nodded with sad comprehension, "He's been hurt that bad then,"

"He's exceedingly timid," Grissom continued, trying to choose his phrasing carefully, "He has a difficult time when he tries to speak." Gil paused, "He was treated no better than a beast in that House."

Catherine could see that Grissom was speaking the truth as he had construed it, and knew better than to challenge what Gil had stated so indisputably.

"Do you suppose that his silence was forced upon him?"

Grissom turned to look at Catherine, "I don't doubt it," he said dejectedly, "I can see that he understands speech, but he struggles to form a single syllable."

"Has he spoken with you then?"

"He was able to tell me that his name was Kurt."

"Kurt? That doesn't seem like a name his captors would have given him. From what I read from their statements, they called him 'the demon' or 'Crawler.'"

"It must have been a name from before he ended up in their grasp."

"Do you think he has a family, Griss? Someone who cared enough to name him?"

"There's no way of knowing until he finds the courage to talk about his past." Gil turned back to gaze through the infirmary window, "There is such fear within that boy Catherine. Fear interlaced with everything he does. How long must he have been in that situation that he keeps so much trepidation welled up within him?"

"He seems to have taking a liking to you," Catherine stated.

"He is opening up. I'm surprised at how he's been able to transition for that state of terror to wanting to be able to trust."

"I hope we can help him get through this."

"My only regret is that we hadn't found him sooner. It takes time to be injured to such an extent; to become accustomed to this kind of abuse. It will take time for him to fully heal from all of this, both physically and mentally," Grissom's mind switched to the owners of the House, "I can't let these people slip through the system after what they've done to him," he said more to himself and Kurt than to Catherine.

They both stood and watched through the window a few minutes longer. Grissom had to begin to fill out the paperwork on Kurt's case, so he left to return to his office, trusting the doctors with Kurt. He pondered the possibility that Kurt could have a family out there somewhere. For some reason the thought agitated him. What kind of person would give up such a remarkable boy to such an inexcusable fate? Grissom scolded himself; he had only known Kurt for a total of five hours, and already he had become more attached than was professional. Still, he felt that it was his duty to protect Kurt and bring justice to those who had abused him.


	4. To Remember

Kurt awoke at 9:47. He knew this because the clock was directly in front of his bed. He heard once more the blips of his heart rate on the machine.

He began to recall the events of the night before. He remembered now more clearly what had happened. He remembered lying on the dirt floor of his cell…waiting… Waiting for someone to come and finish what they had started…Waiting to die.

Five nights prior to the night he had been rescued, Mr. Brock had come to him, telling Kurt how worthless he was. Kurt was no longer bringing in a profit, so Mr. Brock had decided he was no longer worth keeping alive.

Kurt's memory of that night was blurred. He remembered the first hit and vaguely being kicked, but thinking about what was done to him in that cell made Kurt nauseous. He blocked out the memories of that night he was beaten and left for dead in favor of the memories of the night Grissom came to his rescue.

He thought of that night, just yesterday, which had changed his fate. He thought of how Grissom had calmed him and taken him from that desolate place. He remembered how Grissom had tenderly cleansed him and how it had felt as if the horrendous life Kurt had lived up to that point had been washed away.

He had forgotten what it felt like to be free from chains and bars.

On the night he was left to die, Mr. Brock had removed the collar from around his neck. The shock collar had been used to keep Kurt obedient and silent. Kurt never dared to escape with the collar on, for it sensed the distance from Kurt's master and would send an unending, potentially fatal shock through Kurt if he tried to get away-or so he had been warned. Neither Brock nor Kurt had expected Kurt to live much longer, even if he did manage to escape.

Kurt was grateful to have the have the collar removed; although he knew he didn't have the strength to escape. He was satisfied knowing that at least he could die free. He had never expected that he would be found, let alone rescued.

He couldn't remember anything after Grissom had set him in the hospital bed. He looked to the door wondering where Grissom might be. Kurt didn't like being alone in this white room and wished for his protector to return to him.

For nearly 45 minutes, Kurt sat in silence, unmoving, when he heard a knock on the door, he stiffened. He hoped that he would see Grissom walk in but when the door opened he saw another man instead.

Warrick Brown walked into the room slowly, bearing broth, orange juice, apple juice, and water. He stopped as he saw the pair of eyes watching him.

"Hey," He said kindly, "I wasn't sure you'd be awake."

Warrick waited for a response, but received only a wary glare. He continued, "Grissom told me to come and check on you, he had to leave…Your name is Kurt right?"

Kurt only continued to stare at Warrick. Fear was apparent in his features but Warrick saw recognition at the mention of Grissom's name. Warrick had been around when they had brought Kurt in, and had seen pictures from the crime scene. He could appreciate how much better Kurt looked after Grissom's care.

"I thought you might be hungry." He said setting the food on the tray by the bed.

Kurt watched him set the liquids down but made no move towards them. Warrick pulled up a chair to sit nearer to Kurt. Thinking that Kurt was hesitating because he needed help, Warrick lifted that water and offered it to Kurt.

He moved so suddenly that Kurt was taken by surprise and backed away from Warrick. Brown hadn't meant to frighten Kurt. He'd seen how the boy had fallen off the bed the night before so he drew back to allow Kurt more room.

After moments of silence and staring, Warrick began to feel awkward. He looked to the table and saw the channel changer for the TV which was in the corner of the room. He slowly picked it up so he wouldn't scare the boy again.

"Would you like to watch some TV?" He knew by now that Kurt wouldn't respond, but wanted this time to give some warning about what he was going to do.

He pressed the power button and the television came to life. Kurt looked on curiously.

"News, Soap, Cartoons, News," Warrick said flipping through the local channels. He looked from the set to Kurt to ascertain what Kurt would be interested in, "The Spanish cannel, more news, religious channel…"

After that there was only static. Warrick held the remote toward Kurt, "Do you want to give it a try?" He offered.

Slowly, Kurt reached for the remote. He went down the channels as Warrick watched. This time however, when he found his way to the religious channel, he stopped. There was currently a Catholic mass on in Latin. Kurt closed his eyes, listening to the apostle's creed being sung in a Gregorian manner.

Warrick watched Kurt curiously. He felt urged to ask if this was really what the boy wanted to watch, but the urge was suppressed as he saw how content Kurt had become while listening to the mass. Warrick noted how Kurt would mouth the prayers, though the boy never once made a sound. For the remainder of the mass, Warrick examined Kurt and tried to comprehend him. He had a hard time imagining how a boy, no more that a teenager, would be so enthralled with a Catholic mass. Especially difficult for him to understand was how someone who looked so much like a blue demon could find common ground with Christianity at all.

Kurt continued watching and praying, forgetting about the food and the man still in his room. He was reminded of a time when his adopted parents would take him to church. He knew it must have been years since those times-since the accident which had destroyed the life that he loved. He wasn't aware that he was crying until he had to blink in order to see the mass. He wiped away the tears only to find that a moment later they were falling down his cheek once more.

Warrick noticed Kurt tremble and looked more closely. He watched as Kurt sobbed silently, unsure of what to do. Warrick didn't know what had caused the tears, and assumed that the full force of what Kurt had been through must have hit the boy hard. He decided simply to allow Kurt to release his emotions.

After a few minutes, Kurt's weeping ceased. He remembered that the man was still in the room, and turned to see if he had noticed Kurt's crying. When he gazed at Warrick, the investigator turned to him and smiled sympathetically. Kurt held his gaze for a moment before returning his attention to the mass. He wished fruitlessly that it was Grissom here sitting next to him so that he might have someone to confide in.

Warrick stayed in the room until the end of the Mass and then retreated into the hall with the untouched liquids. He stopped at the window, looking in. Kurt seemed so lost here, and yet Warrick knew the boy was appreciative, though he never spoke. Warrick wondered how Grissom had discovered Kurt's name, because the boy never uttered so much as a syllable to anyone else. Thinking on it, he figured that Grissom had been the first one to approach and help Kurt, according to the report. He must have earned the kid's trust early on. Warrick also had to admit that Grissom just had a way with people. Knowing that he would be talking with Grissom later, Warrick left to the cafeteria to dispose of the unwanted food.

AN Sorry peoples that this is taking so long. I actually have about 5 more chapters written up but I have yet to write new ones so I'm trying to spread these ones out. I've been a bit overwhelmed with preparing for college and shtuff that I cannot manage to find time to write. Just so you know, I have the entire fiction planned out in my head, ending included; I just need to get it down on paper. I shall not abandon this piece. If ever you cannot wait any longer just send me a message and I'll make myself find time to write up a new chapter. Oh and if you don't like the fic…why the heck are you still reading the authors note?


	5. Real Food

AN: For any of those people who may be wondering about our dear friend Mr. Conrad Eckley, (the jerk who works the day shift). In my alternate universe he was sent to Africa on an assignment and contracted Ebola, poor fellow. He died an excruciating and pain-filled death, which I will not go into to be considerate for those faint of heart. There was, however no investigation on his death, since nobody in CSI liked him anyway, and his body was burned so that nobody else could contract that awful disease. Let us take a moment of silence to mourn the loss of Eckley, the one we loved to hate…Ok glad that's over, so! On with the show!

Grissom entered the department at 6:35 pm, realizing that he had arrived too early for his shift. He went straight to Warrick's office to ask about Kurt. Since he had left the precinct last night, or rather, earlier that morning, he couldn't stop thinking about the boy. He began to fear that someone would find out about Kurt, or try to hurt him. By 6 Grissom had decided to come in, just to check on him. He was grateful that Warrick was temporarily working days while the precinct was in the process of hiring a new investigator. Grissom didn't trust any of the day crew with such an extraordinary boy. As he walked into Warrick's office, Warrick stood to greet him.

"Hey, Grissom," he said, "You're here early. Your shift doesn't start for a couple of hours."

"I know," replied Grissom coolly, "I just felt like I should see how Kurt is adapting to this new environment.

"Well I took him some liquids like you asked, but he refused them."

"I see," Grissom said, worrying about Kurt's appetite.

Warrick continued, "Since he wasn't into the food, I showed him how to work the TV. You would never guess what he chose to watch."

Grissom pondered what Warrick could mean while Warrick paused in a very Greg-like manner. Grissom raised his eyebrows inquisitively, waiting for Warrick to continue.

"He chose to watch some Catholic church show," He said, expecting Grissom to be just as perplexed about the choice as he had been.

"Really?" Was the only response that Grissom offered, "Was there anything else notable?" He asked

It was now Warrick's turn to raise his eyebrows. He was surprised at how Grissom hadn't been fazed by the fact that Kurt was watching a religious channel. Warrick let it pass though to answer Grissom's next question.

"Well," he began, "While he was watching the program, he began to cry."

This caught Grissom's attention, "Have you any idea what triggered it?"

"I don't," Warrick answered truthfully, "One minute he was praying right along with the church, and the next, he was crying."

Grissom pondered over what might have happened, worried about the boy, "Did he speak at all to you?"

"Not a sound."

"Yet he was praying?"

"Well, he was forming his lips to the words. It looked to me like he was saying the same thing as the congregation. You would probably know better whether what he was mouthing was the same. I don't read lips as well as you." Warrick stated.

Grissom nodded his assent; he wanted to go to Kurt now. No one but the nurses had probably been in to see him since Warrick. Grissom expected that Kurt would begin to feel abandoned if left alone for too long.

"So he hasn't said anything?" Warrick shook his head, Gil nodded, "I'm going to try to get him to eat. If you need me, that's where I'll be." he said, leaving toward the cafeteria.

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Kurt sat awake in the hospital room. He had turned off the television once Warrick had left. He was beginning to wish he had eaten something when it had been available. He hadn't eaten for so long, but he was still wary of offered food. He shuddered remembering the many times he had been drugged through contaminated food. He wished that he could trust the people here, but so far he could only put his faith in Grissom.

It was now 7 pm and he was starting to think that Grissom had forgotten about him. Just as the thought crossed his mind, he saw the doorknob rotate. His hopes rose as the door opened, despite the fact that he had been disappointed throughout the day as the door had opened to doctors or nurses. His eyes brightened in recognition as Grissom walked in with a tray of cups, as Warrick had done earlier.

"_Grri_-Grissom!" He whispered with a guarded excitement.

Hearing his name, Grissom paused surprised. He immediately became reassured about Kurt, and hopeful that the boy could be reached.

"How are you doing, Kurt?" he asked, "Are you hungry?"

Kurt didn't verbally answer, but Gil interpreted a positive response from his manner. Grissom set the tray on the table where Warrick had. Kurt weakly scooted himself up against the pillows. He looked at the cups and saw that there was also a bowl in the center. They all smelled so good, but part of him couldn't help fearing what was proffered. He did his best to push his fear aside, wanting to trust Grissom.

With the tray in front of Kurt, Grissom pointed to the cups to tell Kurt what his choices were, "Here we have orange juice, apple juice, chicken soup broth, and some water. Do you want to try and eat?"

Kurt was so happy that Grissom hadn't deserted him that he couldn't really think about what the man had been saying. He looked Grissom in the eyes and looked down to the bowl. Whatever was in there smelled wonderful.

Grissom noticed Kurt's interest in the soup and set the bowl closer to Kurt, handing him the spoon. "Go ahead," he said encouragingly.

Kurt hesitated before reaching out for the spoon. Grissom watched Kurt's tridactile hands close around the spoon. Kurt's hand shook as he slowly lowered it into the broth. Kurt looked once more for Grissom's consent, Gil nodded. Kurt raised the spoon out of the broth, but as soon as it surfaced, Kurt's hand began to tremble. He tried to steady it, but the vibrations caused the broth to splash off the spoon as he passed over the bowl's rim.

Kurt gasped and hurriedly set the spoon down, searching for something to dry the tray with. Grissom grabbed a wad of tissue from the box near the bed, and caught the liquid before it slid onto the sheets.

"S-sorry" Kurt said in his breathy voice. "s-sorry." He repeated, quivering as Grissom padded up the broth. Kurt cursed himself for spilling. He was terrified that he had angered Grissom. He couldn't upset the one person who cared. In his fear, his mind returned him to his times of horrifying captivity - what the consequences had been if he offended one of his clients.

"It's ok, Kurt," Grissom said sincerely, pulling Kurt's mind from shadow. Gil was vexed by how such an innocent mistake could throw Kurt into a panic, "Really, it's ok. It's all clean now, see? Like it never happened."

Hearing Grissom's kind reassurances after facing the demons of his past caused Kurt to cry with confused emotions.

Grissom wrapped his arms around Kurt, who hesitated before giving in to the comfort. Kurt had felt so alone and unwanted for such a long time that any form of care seemed so alien, yet so essential.

Grissom understood that the tears were caused by so much more than spilled broth. Kurt was hurting deeply and needed desperately to be loved, so much so, that he feared rejection could result from the most trivial accident.

Gradually Kurt's tears subsided. Grissom, who had been rocking Kurt gently, released his grasp and sat back in the chair by the bed. He studied the pain-filled face, which now reflected Kurt's embarrassment at having broken down in front of Grissom.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Kurt shook his head meekly. He wasn't quite ready yet to burden Grissom with his past, but knowing that Grissom was willing to listen had meant so much. "Sorry" he whispered again, feeling foolish about his reaction.

"No need to be sorry," Grissom insisted, "No use crying over spilled milk, or broth," he added, smiling reassuringly at Kurt. He handed the spoon back to Kurt, who looked at it uncertainly in his hands.

"Let me help you." Grissom implored.

Grissom placed his hand over Kurt's and helped him to steadily fill the spoon with broth once more, bringing the spoon to Kurt's mouth. After the scene he had just caused, Kurt wasn't sure he even wanted to eat now, but after he closed his mouth around the first spoonful, his taste buds erupted with joy. He let the sweet taste of real food set on his tongue, allowing the taste to imprint on his memory. As the liquid flowed down his dry throat, he suddenly became aware of the ache in his stomach, which stemmed from lack of food for days. Wanting to fill the emptiness, he sped up the pace of his hand from his mouth to the bowl.

Grissom felt the hand beneath his try to move faster to get at the food, and took it as a good sign. He did not comply, however, to the request, knowing that too much too soon could make Kurt sick. Still steadily, he refilled the spoon for Kurt, and guided it to his mouth.

Kurt submitted to the slower pace, realizing that Grissom must have good reason. It felt strange to be eating out of the hands of another, though it wasn't the first time he was obligated to do so. Even stranger was the fact that the food was uncontaminated and the help wanted.

Kurt had eaten about 10 spoonfuls of broth when he began to get tired. He halted his hand over the bowl and released the spoon. Grissom, in turn, released his hand.

"Are you done for now?" Grissom asked, knowing that Kurt would be feeling full sooner because his stomach was unused to digesting food. "Would you like to try something else?"

At the second question, Kurt looked to Grissom for permission before reaching his hand to the orange juice. Grissom reached also to steady the Kurt's grip. He turned the straw towards the boy. Kurt took a sip. Once more, flavor spread across his tongue and he savored the liquid for a moment before swallowing. This time however, Kurt could not enjoy the liquid as he felt himself grow nauseous. He had wanted to continue eating, but his body was rejecting the food that was so foreign. He tried desperately to keep the food down, but ultimately began to gag.

Grissom saw Kurt's plight and moved quickly. He took the cup of ice water and pressed it to Kurt's lips. "Hold the ice on your tongue and swallow the water." He directed hastily as Kurt granted access to his mouth. Grissom knew that the ice would help, but was aware that Kurt would have to work to keep that meal down.

Kurt did as he was told; holding the ice in his mouth and swallowing the water. After moments of fighting the nausea, Kurt began to feel it subside. He focused on the ice and realized that Grissom was rubbing circles on his back. The contact felt reassuring.

"Better now?" Grissom asked.

Kurt nodded. Grissom moved the tray away from the bed so Kurt would no longer have to look at it. He then sat back down and resumed rubbing small circled on Kurt's back, wanting to comfort the boy.

Kurt gazed at Grissom, wondering why the man cared so deeply. He longed to be held, to feel safe. He leaned into Grissom's hand and lay down on his left side.

Grissom's contact didn't stop. He moved in closer to rub Kurt's back, knowing that the contact was needed and silently longed for. He knew he was losing his objectivity, growing far too close to a case, but he found that he didn't care. Kurt had, within a single day, become a son to Grissom, and he swore to both himself and the boy that no one would ever harm Kurt again. Beneath him he heard Kurt whisper, "Danke."


	6. Test Results

Kurt had once again fallen asleep under Grissom's care and when Gil looked to the clock it read 8:17. He was late for work. He stood and stroked Kurt's hair tenderly before leaving the room.

He walked down to the office to check in before making his way to the lab. Within the lab, he found Greg already at work.

"Hey, Grissom. I was waiting for you. You were with Kurt, right?" Greg asked.

"I was," Gil responded, "Have the tests come back for him?"

"They have actually." Greg said, taking on a more somber attitude, "The results weren't kind."

Grissom nodded. He knew that Kurt had been a victim to much more than any child should ever have to deal with. "Let's start with the basics then, before we move on to the core of the matter."

Greg nodded and pulled out the file containing Kurt's information, "Should we call the others?"

"Yes, we probably should," replied Grissom. He pulled out his cell phone and called Catherine.

_"Hey Grissom,"_ she answered.

"Hello Catherine," said Gil, "I thought that the team should know the test results concerning Kurt. Would you round everyone up and head over to Greg's station?"

_"Sure, Griss.__ Should I invite Warrick? I think he stayed late."_

"Yes, bring him by too. See you in a few."

_"See ya, Gil."_ She replied before she hung up.

Within 10 minutes, the whole crew was gathered around Greg and Grissom. Warrick was first to speak.

"So what do we know about our blue guest?"

Greg looked to Grissom for permission to begin, "Well, first off, I think you guys would like to know he's human."

This caused most of the crew to raise their eyebrows, "Really?" Nick said.

"Yeah. When DNA came back, it confirmed that he was human, but some strands have mutated to make him appear the way he does." Greg stated.

"How old is he?" Grissom inquired.

"According to this, he's around 16 years old."

"Only 16," Catherine said, taken aback. She thought on her own daughter, now 13.

Greg continued, "Physically he has three fingers on each of his hands, three large toes on each foot, a tail, naturally sharp teeth, pointed ears, yellow eyes, and blue skin."

"All of that caused by the mutation in DNA?" asked Sarah.

"Apparently. It has been suggested that the mutations may have been the result of an abnormal gestation period within the mother," Greg answered, seeing the others nod, he continued, "On further investigation, it was also discovered that he is covered in a very fine blue fur, as well as intricate scar patterns."

"So now we get into the rough stuff." Stated Warrick.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so. When the scars were examined closely, the doctors could discern that they were deliberately cut to look like the more flowing scars we see from sloppier cuts." said Greg, grimly.

"How do you explain that?" Nick asked.

Greg looked to them in turn, trying to decide how to explain their theory. His eyes rested on Grissom, "Well, it's almost as if the boy was beaten, which accounts for the initial cuts, then someone had taken a blade to the cuts to form them into the tattoos that line his body."

"Who would do that?" said Sarah, unbelieving.

"We can't really tell that just yet, but the initial scars came no doubt from his captors."

The room had grown solemn. Grissom nodded silently. This information confirmed his earlier assumptions about Kurt's scars. Years on the force had familiarized him with the cruelest things that one human being could do to another. It was the fact that something so horrendous had been done to the boy he had grown to care for that infuriated Grissom.

Greg continued once more, "From the x-rays, as well as his physical condition, we can discern that he's been beaten within the last few days and most likely very frequently for at least a year."

"A year?!" Exclaimed Nick, "He's been in that condition for a year?"

"Yes. The x-ray showed a variety of breaks and fractures in various stages of healing. The oldest are at least a year old, possibly more."

"And the most recent?" Grissom asked.

"There is a breadk in his ribs about 1 month old." Greg said, realizing Grissom seemed uncharacteristic today. "Has he spoken with you at all about it?"

"No. I don't think he's ready." Replied Grissom, "He tries to speak, but it sounds as if he hasn't used his voice in a long time."

"You think he's been silent since he was captured?" Asked Warrick.

"It's very likely," Greg responded.

"What of the other tests?" Grissom asked, knowing that they would reveal the worst case scenario.

Greg shuffled the papers uncomfortably. He knew Grissom had grown close to Kurt, witnessed their relationship personally, and regretted having to reveal the results of the grimmest of tests. He opened to the page with the required information, praying Grissom wouldn't kill the messenger.

"The physical exam also confirmed that Kurt had been recently, and most likely repeatedly, a victim of sexual assault."

The crew, save Grissom, gasped. Grissom closed his eyes a moment, wishing in vain that what he'd heard wasn't true. He tried to keep the emotion from his voice, "Was there a viable sample of any kind found?"

"Yes, a DNA test was successful." Greg said, glad he could provide some good news, "It matches that of Emilio Brock, the owner of the 'House.'"

Grissom nodded. They could now build a case with no room for doubt. Mr. Brock had molested and abused Kurt, and Grissom would make sure that he was put behind bars for as many years as they could milk out of the sentencing. "Nick, I want you to lead the preparations of this case for court. Sarah, I need you to call Brass and get him down here as soon as possible."

"But we'll need his testimony to solidify the case, without it, the case will barely hold." Nick insisted.

"Let me worry about that," Grissom said, "All he needs is time."

With that, the meeting ended and the investigators all went their separate ways to begin constructing the case for court. Grissom walked back to Kurt's room and stood outside the window looking in. Kurt was asleep as Grissom had left him; turned away from the door. Grissom sighed heavily with the knowledge of the torment that Kurt had gone through, wishing that somehow they could have found him sooner.

Catherine approached Grissom from behind and gazed into the room, "You've gotten attached to him, haven't you?" She stated more than asked.

"I'm afraid so." Grissom confirmed, "He deserves justice for what's been done to him… And more than that, he deserves to know what it is not to live in fear; what it is to feel safe." _…That this wasn't his fault_.

"Well, I think you're just the person to show him." Catherine said, approving of his response, "Kurt's lucky to have you to protect him."

"Who will he have once the case is settled?" Grissom asked, knowing full well that Kurt would be handed over to Social Services, where he would be held most probably in a group home until the age of 18. Grissom disliked the idea, but could think of no better alternative. He and Catherine gazed into the room at the sleeping boy, both pondering his fate.

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	7. Wednesday's Child

The next day, Grissom strode into the precinct at 9:05 am. He had worked until 4 am but found that he could not stop thinking about the boy.

Warrick saw Grissom walk in and went to greet him, "Ok, this time you are way too early. Did you even go home last night?"

"Of course I did," Grissom replied.

"Are you getting overtime for this?"

"No, this is on my own time. I wanted to check on Kurt," Grissom answered, "Visiting hours have started haven't they?" He added sarcastically.

"They start at 8," Warrick said, "Hey, I was just about to get him breakfast. You want to get it since you're on your way to visit him anyway?"

"Will do," Grissom said, leaving for the cafeteria, "See you later."

At the cafeteria, Grissom got a tray and picked up some orange juice, oatmeal, and a bowl of cornflakes with a small carton of milk. He knew that Kurt would be unable to eat much more than he had yesterday, but Gil wanted him to have some choices.

He walked to Kurt's room and knocked once before entering. Kurt's face brightened with recognition upon seeing Grissom. He had thought at first that it had been another nurse.

Grissom walked in and set the tray down.

"Hallo," Kurt said in his still weak voice. Grissom was caught off guard, he hadn't expected Kurt to speak up so soon.

"Hello," Grissom replied, "How are you feeling this morning?" Grissom watched Kurt struggle to form words which never came, "Better?" Grissom asked, trying to make it easier on Kurt.

Kurt couldn't believe how difficult it was to speak. He knew the words he wanted to say, but had forgotten the feel of speaking. "Ja" he said, grateful that Grissom had changed the question to make the words simpler.

Grissom smiled, impressed at how well Kurt was improving. "That's good," he said sincerely, "I brought you some breakfast."

Kurt looked away from Grissom to gaze at the food. He was hungry this morning, but hunger was something he had grown accustomed to. It was having that hunger relieved which seemed so foreign.

Grissom sat next to Kurt, "If you can manage to eat again, I can take out that catheter."

Kurt looked down at his arm where the needle entered his body. He had begun to notice that his arm was growing sore from the catheter. He nodded to Grissom.

"What would you like? I have cereal, milk, oatmeal, and orange juice."

Kurt stiffened a bit. He knew he had recognized the smell of oatmeal intermingled amongst the various new scents. He hated that smell which represented the only food he had ever been allowed during the years he had been in the hands of Brock. The smell revolted him. He knew Grissom must have meant no harm, but he needed desperately to get rid of that smell, it reminded him too much of his captivity. His eyes glazed over, recalling the cruelties he had suffered, how he had been denied any thing which would humanize him; proper food, clothes, treatment.

Grissom noticed tears beginning to well up in Kurt's eyes. _What had sent him over__? He had done nothing wrong. _"Kurt? What's wrong?"

Kurt became more aware of where he was. He pushed away the bowl containing the oatmeal, "No" he said, his sorrowful eyes looking to Grissom for understanding. "Please, no" he said in a wavering voice that sounded as if he were trying not to cry.

Grissom picked up the bowl, "You want me to toss it?" he said, trying to figure out why the oatmeal seemed to disturb Kurt so much.

"Please" Kurt begged, voice quivering, "I can't."

Seeing Kurt in such distress pained Grissom. How could such a simple thing as oatmeal cause such an anguished response? Then it clicked for Grissom. It had to have been a link to the boy's past, a link to the torture which went on in that house. Suddenly the oatmeal disgusted him as much as he knew it disgusted Kurt. He took it quickly and dumped it into the trash just outside the room, rather than in the trash near the bed where Kurt may still be able to smell it. When he returned to Kurt, he found the boy looking intently at his sheets, almost as if he was afraid that he was in some sort of trouble.

"It's gone, Kurt," Grissom said, he touched his hand to Kurt's chin and lifted his face to meet his, "Kurt, you haven't done anything wrong. I'm not upset. I'm sorry, I hadn't realized." Grissom retracted his hand, and Kurt held eye contact, tears residing.

Grissom wasn't really sure how to continue after Kurt's panic attack, so he just asked gently, "Do you still feel like eating?"

Kurt nodded.

"Feel like some cereal? They're corn flakes." Grissom said with a reassuring smile.

Kurt looked down onto the tray, saw the mini box of corn flakes, and smiled his small smile. Grissom sat next to Kurt once more, opened the box, and poured cereal and milk for Kurt.

Kurt was able to eat on his own that morning. His strength had begun to return to him. When he took in the first mouthful of cornflakes, the flavor, though simple, was like a symphony for his mouth. What he found most amazing was that he recognized the taste from before his captivity. The good memories made him smile, he had forgotten them until now.

"How is it?" Grissom asked.

"Wonderful," Kurt said between bites. When he finished the bowl, his hunger had subsided. "Thank you," he said to Grissom.

For a moment they sat in silence. Grissom was astounded by how much Kurt was improving. Not only was he healing well physically, but he was also learning to trust and speak.

"I hear you watched a mass yesterday. Did you like it?"

"Ya," Kurt said, "I miss it." He added looking dejectedly toward the sheet. His speech was still halting, but Grissom was amazed every time it came. It must have been so difficult. Grissom heard the hint at Kurt's past within Kurt's words, both in accent and content. He knew that he could ease Kurt into revealing more if he took it slow.

"Would you like me to watch the mass with you?"

Kurt's eyes brightened, "Yes." The mass had just begun about ten minutes earlier and hadn't gotten too far underway. When Grissom turned on the TV, the choir was just finishing the beautiful Gloria.

Grissom paid less attention to the mass, watching instead the boy sitting next to him. There was so much that Grissom wanted to know about him. How could a boy who had been victim to such hate show appreciation for a Mass? Kurt's entire manner was that of a child, constantly seeking approval and fearing rejection. And yet, there was another side, the side that was much too old to be residing within a boy of his age. Grissom once again found himself wanting to protect Kurt, to keep him from hurting. He knew that he needed to help Kurt to receive justice for what had been done to him, but there was a part of Grissom which feared what he might hear the child say. Grissom knew from the tests what generally had happened to Kurt, but to hear a story from the victim could be much harder to bear than hearing it from an unsympathetic file.

He returned his attention to the mass. Though it had been an extremely long time since he had been to church, Grissom found that he recognized the prayers that were coming both from the television and the boy sitting next to him. When they started handing out the Eucharist, a look passed over Kurt's face which seemed to be both a look of longing as well as a look of defeated comprehension. Grissom pondered the look before he realized that Kurt wished that he could participate in this aspect of the mass, while at the same time feeling that he would never be allowed to. Grissom then wondered if Kurt had ever been to a real mass, recalling the words 'I miss it.'

As the Father was giving his final prayer, Grissom turned to Kurt, "Kurt?" the boy turned, "Have you ever been in a church?" He asked, hoping to guide the boy into revealing a bit of his past.

Kurt turned back to the TV before moving his gaze back to the sheets, a spot which his eyes were growing particularly familiar with. He had a faraway look on his face when he stated softly, "When I was little…sometimes…I could go."

"Did someone take you?" He asked, trying not to allow Kurt to retreat within himself. He could feel that he was so close to hearing something quite significant concerning the boy.

Kurt seemed conflicted about what he wished for Grissom to know. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, the door burst open so hard it slammed against the wall opposite.

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(AN alright, here's that next chapter I promised, I know it's short as well, but after having you guys wait for so long for the last chapter, I felt obligated to give you something more. Don't expect updates this quickly to happen often, this is a guild update, and it's also a bit of a cliffhanger..my bad, oh well, just pretend this chapter and the last one are connected. Ok bye bye)


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